


Lionheart

by Iximaz



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Action & Romance, Adopted Children, Angst, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Blood Drinking, Canon-Typical Violence, Damsels in Distress, Damsels out of Distress, Dhampir, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Kidnapping, Lost Love, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Misunderstandings, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Psychological Torture, Rescue, Romantic Fluff, Shapeshifting, Slow Romance, Succubi & Incubi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:02:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26456098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iximaz/pseuds/Iximaz
Summary: It's been five years since Sara Trantoul's death, and Leon Belmont is a bitter man. Bereft of his titles and lands, he wanders Wallachia with Trefor Llewellyn in search of Mathias Cronqvist, taking on odd jobs hunting monsters and vampires along the way.The Wallachian Baron Munteanu has a dark secret. His says his daughter Elena is a sickly girl too frail to leave the manor, tended to by only a few trusted servants. In reality, Elena is his wife's bastard dhampir child, and when the secret gets out, Elena is dragged into the streets to be burned at the stake. That's when her real, vampiric father disappears with her, spiriting her away to his castle in the hopes of making her an invaluable ally.The Munteanus want their daughter back, and there's a monster problem in the lands. Baron Munteanu puts out a call for hunters, quietly promising lordship and land to anyone who can bring his adopted child back alive, and Leon and Trefor answer.Meanwhile, Elena is trapped in her father's castle and is looking for a way to escape with her unfamiliar powers. Luckily for her, one of her father's guards is a friendly succubus named Slyheart, with an open ear and a contract binding him to service...
Relationships: Leon Belmont & Dracula Vlad Tepes | Mathias Cronqvist, Leon Belmont & Trefor, Leon Belmont/Original Female Character, Leon Belmont/Sara Trantoul, Trefor (Castlevania)/Original Male Character
Comments: 17
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

The cold wouldn’t have been so bad on its own, if it weren’t for the rain. Leon Belmont huddled under a tarpaulin next to his friend and brother-in-arms, Trefor Llewellyn, who morosely took a sip from his waterskin before tearing into a piece of tack.

“Three days,” Trefor complained. “Three bloody days and still no letup. We’ll be stuck out here for ages if this keeps going. Are you sure we’re even headed in the right direction?”

Leon sighed and huddled deeper into his coat, flipping the collar up around his ears. “I’m sure,” he said quietly. “We’ll reach Sălova by tomorrow.”

“Hey, look, it’s damp enough out here without you being a fucking wet blanket,” Trefor said, fishing out a second piece of tack and handing it to Leon. 

The tack was soundly ignored, even when Trefor waved it enticingly in front of Leon’s face, where it was swatted tiredly away.

“It seems we’ll be sleeping upright tonight,” Leon said instead, closing his eyes. 

The sharp sting of alcohol hit his nose, and Leon’s eyes snapped open again. “ _Trefor._ I’m not interested. Besides, if I drink any of your swill, you’ll be complaining until we reach town.”

“I’m just saying, it helps you forget,” Trefor said with a shrug, and gulped from his flask that he kept tucked in his vest.

“Forget to bathe, more like,” Leon said, shooting Trefor a look.

“What? It’s been raining for three days. We’re both drenched and stink like old mud. Don’t act so high and mighty, _my lord_ ,” Trefor said sarcastically, and Leon groaned, turning away from him.

Trefor grunted and shifted on his haunches, grimacing at the mud that squelched under his boots. He was a large, well-muscled man with dark and shaggy hair, scars from the Holy War covering his arms and torso. Leon, by contrast, had a cloud of silky blond hair and was slender—and as Trefor liked to say, built like a twig. But where Trefor was defined muscle, Leon’s was lean, and somewhat less scarred due to having a better sense of when to duck.

Neither of them looked particularly well off at the moment, though, bedraggled from three straight days of downpour. Their journey had already been detoured thanks to the valley being flooded.

“What’ll you do, when you get your house and land?” Trefor said into the silence. His voice seemed loud compared to the rain.

Leon didn’t respond.

“Me, I’m going to find a nice hunting dog,” Trefor said. “No, make that two hunting dogs.” He bit off a corner of tack, gnawing as he thought. “And I’ll have a great big manor with a feast next to a roaring fire every night. Fox hunts on Sunday afternoons.”

“And a different woman in your bed every night as well, I suppose,” Leon said sarcastically.

Trefor considered it for a moment before shrugging. “Seems like that would be more trouble than it’s worth,” he said. “What about you? Maybe you’ll be able to find a nice girl again, settle down. Have those kids you always wanted. A son and two daughters, wasn’t it? An elder to teach her brother manners—”

“—and a younger to teach him bravery,” Leon finished quietly. “That was a fantasy at best, Trefor. And one that’s never going to happen now.” His hands curled over the hilt of the Morning Star, and if he concentrated hard, he could almost pretend he felt Sara’s soul inside. “We should get some rest. Getting distracted at the best of times doesn’t help, and now that we’re nearing Wurdulac’s castle, we can’t afford to lose focus.”

“Leon.” Trefor’s voice was sombre now. “This isn’t going to be a repeat of last time, _ie?_ You’ve had experience fighting vamps now, we both have. We’ll get the little Baroness out safe and bring her back to Daddy Dearest; he’s in the middle of arresting the people who tried to burn her, and with her home, we get our reward. We have nothing to worry about.”

“Even though it’s been nearly two weeks,” Leon said. He closed his eyes again, shoving away the ache in his chest. “I won’t be surprised if we get there to already find her turned and in his thrall. Do try to get some sleep. Hopefully the rain will stop tomorrow.”

* * *

Fifty kilometres away, Elena Munteanu watched the lightning flash across the sky, then closed her eyes and counted the seconds. 

_BOOM._

Four kilometres away.

Her room was overtly luxurious, gold practically dripping from the walls and ceiling and furniture, the heavy crystalline chandeliers rattling and swaying from the force of the thunder. The four-poster bed draped with silk hangings and sheets was far softer than even the one back at home in the manor, but the luxury only served to quite literally gild her cage.

Elena lifted a hand to touch the bar on the window, only to jerk it back when she was jolted with a different kind of lightning. Stupid, really. She kept testing them out of hope she’d find a weak point. As she stared down at her fingers, the blisters that had formed were already healing.

She heard the footsteps several seconds before the door behind her opened and in came Slyheart, bearing a goblet full of blood.

“You’ll have to eat sometime, you know,” the succubus said, picking up the old chalice on the marble table and sniffing its congealed contents before setting down the new offering. He didn’t leave immediately, hand resting on the table while he studied the young woman curled on the windowsill, feet tucked beneath her skirts. Her thick, dark hair woven with threads of gold fell over one shoulder, gold gown complimenting the gold of her eyes.

They were no longer red and puffy; she’d worn herself out crying days ago. Now she was nothing but gold.

Elena’s mouth watered at the iron tang, and she clamped her lips shut, even as the dryness in her throat flared. “I’d much rather prefer some venison,” she said stiffly. “Or bread, if that’s what you prefer to feed your prisoners.”

“Your father’s orders,” Sly said apologetically. “My lady, there’s no way out of this but to tell him yes. The longer you hold out, the more thin his patience will wear.” When Elena didn’t respond, Sly took a step towards her. “Please—you know what will happen to you if you refuse.”

“I’d sooner die than become like him.”

“Then you will die just like the others,” Sly said. “You’re lucky to have the option.”

Elena softened a bit at that. “You’ll be free of your contract someday,” she said reassuringly.

Sly bent down to tend the fire, his deep red hair glinting in the firelight. He was painfully (inhumanly, if she was being fair) beautiful, his perfect skin only marred by a magical rune branded onto his wrist. 

“Centuries from now,” Sly said dismissively. “Or until Wurdulac is slain. Or I am slain.”

“If I give in to his wishes, then I will have no such luxury as to wait out a timer. The siblings who did are proof of that.” Elena studied her fingertips. “If I can’t get out of this prison myself, I’m sure my _real_ father will send someone to rescue me.”

Sly crossed his arms with a grimace. His teeth were human teeth at the moment, but Elena knew that they were razor sharp like some sort of beast’s when he was in his natural form. 

Not that she’d seen it before. She’d asked, but Sly demurred to do so.

"He loves me like his own," Elena said stubbornly when Sly didn't speak. "He and Mother will send someone for me. But if Wurdulac comes visit again, I could make a stake from the furniture. Get him to think I've changed my mind, let him get in close, surely he can't always move that quickly..."

Sly nodded, looking resigned as she kept going. Elena talked constantly with him about how she might escape, ever since he let slip he’d tried to do the same many times. It was getting repetitive, now, and he wished she’d shut up, but he politely nodded in agreement as Elena went through her points one by one. 

“Why do none of your plans ever involve using your powers?” he interrupted suddenly, and Elena froze mid-sentence.

“My… yes,” Elena said, straightening up and bracing her back against the cold stone of the arch. Sly wondered at the sudden quiver of her lower lip. “Those.”

“You might have an easier time of managing it if you think about that,” Sly said, shaking his head. _Nobles. Heads full of nothing but air._

“Please take the goblet with you?” Elena said, turning her face to the window and breathing in the relief of fresh air. Here, the smell of blood wouldn’t tempt her. She wouldn’t give in if she could pretend it didn’t exist.

Sly looked down at the goblet on the table, which rattled and sloshed with the next crack of thunder. “You know I’m forbidden, my lady.” 

Elena took another deep breath, her face as close to the bars as she dared, before she paused and glanced back at Sly. “Are you forbidden from throwing it out the window?”

Sly gave her an appraising look. “Hold your breath,” he said, and Elena hastened to do so, sliding down from the windowsill before Sly approached and flung the goblet’s contents between the bars. 

“Oh, _thank_ you—”

The smell hit her like a runaway cart. Elena’s eyes blazed red and she lunged for the goblet, ripping it from Sly’s hands as he leapt back. Her tongue lapped at the remaining drops on the rim before she stuck a finger inside, swiping it around before bringing it to her lips, between her fangs, sucking desperately for the precious blood.

Her stomach ached in hunger, and the meagre taste flooded her mouth with saliva, even as tears of shame spilled down her cheeks. She bowed her head, holding the goblet out to Sly, who hesitantly took it. 

“Leave me,” Elena said, her voice quiet and shaking. “Now. Please.”

Sly gave a tiny bow and hurriedly scooped up the old goblet as he left, the runes of the door letting him pass unharmed. 

Elena had no such luxury. Her cell didn’t even have a lock; she could open the door at any time. The runes that warded the place kept her trapped more effectively than any iron or stone; Wurdulac’s magics could have kept her out in the rain and she still would have been just as effectively helpless.

The problem with Sly’s suggestion to use her powers was that Elena barely had the first idea just what, exactly, those were. Those that she did know about—strength and speed and healing—were hardly any use to her here. Even if the vampire himself came for a second visit, his first was a demonstration of how utterly defenseless she was against his raw power.

The taste of blood was sweet on her lips, and Elena slowly sat on the floor, folding her arms on the cushion of the window seat as a pillow for her head.

She was so thirsty, and there was nothing left for her to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this idea struck me out of nowhere. Look, I'm a sucker for "the Belmonts are related to vampires somehow" fics. And we don't know who Leon married after Sara's... fate. The plot bunny wrote itself.
> 
> Is Trevor a later reincarnation of Trefor? ...Maybe. But that's for you to decide.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day did see the cease of the downpour, though it took until midday for Leon and Trefor to start to feel as dry as ‘somewhat damp’. They walked on, Trefor cursing the night creatures that ate their horses last week under his breath whenever their feet got stuck in the mud.

Leon plodded along steadfastly, his gaze determinedly set on a point in the distance. His feet seemed to get heavier with each step, and he knew it wasn’t from the mud. His stomach twisted itself into knots, and though he tried to force the images back, they rushed in again, crowding him. 

_You couldn’t save her. What makes you think you’ll be able to save this one, too?_

_To spare a father the loss of his daughter,_ Leon thought fiercely. _I won’t let him stay suffering the pain I do now that he's also lost his wife. Though they say the loss of a child is the worst grief in the world. What do I know of loss? It’s my fault Sara’s dead._

Trefor was still going on about his damn hunting dogs. Leon didn’t even have the heart to tell him to shut up.

“Wait,” Trefor said, stopping short. “Shut up a second.”

“ _Moi?_ ” Leon muttered, but stopped as well, listening.

As one, he and Trefor stood back to back, Trefor drawing his sword and Leon slowly unfurling the Morning Star in his hands.

A clatter of bones and the squelch of mud reached their ears, and Leon and Trefor glanced at each other before nodding.

Trefor charged into battle with a whoop, his sword a gleaming arc of steel as he leapt through a bush to attack the animated skeletons approaching them. Leon waited patiently while the ones attempting to flank from the sides pushed through the dripping leaves, their bones yellowed with age. Their jaws chattered excitedly when they saw Leon, and they rushed him with rusted weapons.

Leon waited patiently until they were within striking distance, and then he whirled the Morning Star in an arc, the heavy mace head glowing as he built up momentum enough to smash through the first three skeletons’ spines and ribcages. The bones glowed as well before they exploded into thousands of tiny splinters. Leon grabbed the corner of his long coat and pulled it up for cover, but the bone splinters turned to ash before they could strike him.

Another rattle behind him and Leon rolled out of the way, turning and redirecting his weapon with so much force the skeleton was sent flying several feet back. It, too, exploded, and Leon turned to the last one as a series of booms echoed from the bushes, accompanied by the sound of Trefor’s laughter.

The skeleton’s glowing green eyes were full of malice as it levelled its pike at Leon. Leon sidestepped, recoiling the Morning Star around his wrist and affixing it to his belt before drawing his sword in a smooth, practiced motion.

Five years of hunting monsters made it second nature now, for the both of them. 

Leon’s sword flashed, and the head of the pike went flying into the forest. He stepped inside the skeleton’s reach and pivoted, decapitating it in one strike. 

Shards of skeleton pelted the back of Leon’s coat, and then it, too, was ash.

Trefor forced his way back through the bushes, covered in skeleton dust and more mud. He eyed the back of Leon’s coat, now sopping with black, stinking mud, and laughed. “You look like shit.”

“Likewise.” Leon thought he’d been getting used to the smell, but he gagged, shuddering at the wetness seeping into his back. “I don’t know about you, but I’d kill for a long bath.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Trefor said, trying and somewhat succeeding at scraping mud from his front. “You know time is crucial when dealing with vamps.” He froze, eyeing Leon, whose jaw had set.

“I know,” Leon said heavily, re-sheathing his sword. Consecrated, a gift from a lord several years ago as thanks for dealing with a particularly troublesome manticore. “We’ll go in carefully, but right now it’s looking like we’ll be facing Wurdulac come nightfall. Not my favourite option, but we’ve wasted enough time as it is.”

* * *

Elena kept pacing. Her knuckles still stung from where she’d tried punching a wall; the stone was cracked now, but the pain of the chamber’s warding lingered, hand tingling and blistered.

“Hurry up and heal, will you?” she muttered to her hand.

She heard the footsteps, and closed her eyes, trying to identify their owners. Slyheart, accompanied by two others in armour. Elena scrambled back toward the window seat, terror rising in her chest. Was she about to have blood forced down her throat?

There was a polite knock. “My lady?” Sly called. “I’m coming in.”

Elena curled up on the window seat, heart pounding in her throat as Sly entered, two vampiress guards behind him. Elena’s eyes were instantly drawn to Sly’s hands, which were mercifully empty, to his neck, around which was clamped a silver collar inscribed with runes.

“Slyheart?” Elena said hesitantly as the guards moved on either side of him toward her.

“Your father requests you dine with him tonight,” Sly said, the pained look in his eyes saying it was anything but a request. “I’ve orders to make sure you bathe before then, to… ah…” He tapped his chin, pretending to think. “Ah, yes, ‘remove the human stink’.”

“Tell him a bath won’t do me any good, then,” Elena said, her shoulders stiff. “I’ll always have a ‘human stink’ to me, thanks to my mother, who, need he be reminded, he _violated._ Maybe he could use a bath of holy water to wash away his sins.”

“No more talking,” one of the guards said, moving to take Elena’s arm, too fast for her to get away. “Or it’ll be the box for you next, Slyheart.”

Sly swallowed, his throat bobbing with the motion. A fresh smell of burning demon flesh hit Elena’s nose as the second guard took her other arm, the first holding her still when she tried to twist out of her grasp.

She watched as Sly gestured with his fingers, runes dancing in the air, and the wards surrounding the bedchamber dropped.

The guards marched Elena to a luxurious bathing room, just as opulent, or maybe even moreso, than her room. It was marble surfaces and polished silver mirrors from all angles, and in the centre of the room was a steaming hot bath, ready and waiting for her.

“I’ll be attending your bath,” Sly said, and his hair lengthened and tumbled down her shoulders, clothes morphing from a smart waistcoat and breeches to a simple maid’s gown. She blinked mid-transformation, and her brilliant emerald green eyes were briefly pitch black before reverting to the colour Elena was used to.

Elena took a half-step back, an uncomfortable gnawing in her gut at the reminder that Sly was… _dangerous._ Friendly though she was, she was also still a demon.

Elena held out her arms, and Sly set to work undoing the fastenings at her back. She was no stranger to being bathed by a maid, but that had always been with people she’d trusted, not a friendly succubus and two vampires.

Then again, it _had_ been a maid she’d trusted who’d given her away. Elena shivered at the memory of being snatched, her guards slaughtered by the angry mob, and getting dragged from her home by her hair.

She’d been paralysed by fear, too scared of fighting back and accidentally hurting one of them. 

Before she could make a break for it, before they could load her up onto the waiting holy oil-soaked pyre where she might have run, Wurdulac snatched her away and spirited her into the night.

Elena had no idea what awaited her at dinner tonight. Was this it? Was all the ceremony just Wurdulac getting tired of waiting for her, and he was dressing her up to make her a feast?

That was something vampires did, wasn’t it?

“Why the collar?” Elena said quietly as Sly washed her hair.

Sly’s voice was oddly cheery as she ran a comb through Elena’s thick tresses. “Wurdulac just likes to remind those of us who go against him our place in the castle.”

“I’m sorry,” Elena said, biting her lip, fangs pricking the skin. 

“Oh, don’t be,” Sly said, still using that same cheerful tone. “I was just doing what the lady asked, and I thought my lord would be displeased if he knew I caused his daughter to be unhappy. I was merely doing what he ordered.”

“You’re lucky you’re useful to the master,” one of the guards said. “Otherwise your stupidity would have gotten any lesser demon killed for incompetence long ago.” She and her companion shared a laugh.

_Ah._ So that’s what Sly was playing at.

“Yes, she really is next to useless,” Elena said, and Sly’s hand, hidden from the guards, squeezed her shoulder. “Honestly, I don’t know how Wurdulac expects me to _cope._ ”

“You could always give in,” Sly said, going along with it. “Your sisters and brother live in the lap of luxury.”

Elena cast a glance around the room. “And this isn’t luxury?”

“Practically provincial,” Sly said, working scented oil through Elena’s hair. “I believe your father wants to give you a tour tonight, so you might see what you’re refusing. Of course, I’ll be standing guard at the entrance,” she added, and then after an exaggerated pause, said, “well, the main entrance, but I suppose there’s also the one down in the—”

“Slyheart!” one of the guards snapped. “Watch your tongue.”

“Oops,” Sly said, and Elena could just picture that beatific smile. “Silly me.”

_Down in the what? Down in the dungeons? That seemed the most likely place, but that could mean anything…_

Still, it was a start.

When she was washed and dried, Sly wrapped Elena in a dressing gown, cinching the wrap around her waist. 

Elena heard the guards moving away from the door, and she spun around, wet hair flying behind her to smack one of them in the face. The guard reeled back out of reflex, and Elena took the opportunity to throw off the other. She blurred gold as she raced to the door.

Now wasn’t the time to be afraid of her powers. Now was the time to escape. 

She brought her arms up to shield her face out of reflex as she smashed through the door in a shower of splinters. 

Faster, faster. She could hear the other guard behind her as she raced through the corridors, bare feet slapping against stone at a speed she’d never tried to achieve before. Everything should have been out of focus, zipping by too fast for her to see, and yet her senses were heightened, like she could see every tiny crack and cobweb and—

Elena ducked around a wight servant, and her foot caught on a raised step. She went tumbling down the hallway, head over heels before landing in a heap at the foot of a suit of armour, which creaked as it moved to look at her. Its eyes glowed green, and Elena yelped before scrambling to her feet and taking another turn down yet another corridor, trying desperately to get away.

To where? The main entrance, she supposed. She couldn’t waste time trying to get to the dungeons and risk finding out she’d gone to the wrong place after all. 

She whipped around a bannister, racing down a curved flight of stairs, and found Slyheart standing at the bottom, waiting for her. 

She didn’t get the chance to duck around her. In the blink of an eye, Sly’s appearance had changed, to that of a handsome knight in polished silver armour, chestnut hair sleek and blue eyes piercing.

“ _Stay_ ,” Sly said, and Elena skidded to a stop, staring at him as her world shrank to be nothing but him. “ _You should stay with me._ ” His words resonated with magic, with desire, with _lust._

She wanted to. She _needed_ to. She absolutely _had_ to take this man to bed with her—

The guards caught up at that point and grabbed Elena by the arms, and the spell was broken. Sly returned to his usual unassumingly beautiful appearance, smoothing down his waistcoat. The inscribed collar still gleamed at his throat.

“It was a nice try, but you’re not going to escape any time soon,” one of the guards laughed, twisting Elena’s arm behind her back. She yelped and nearly went to her knees as she struggled to pull free. “You’re just a half-breed—”

“Careful, Bianca,” her sister hissed. “Watch your tongue, lest the master tear it from your head.”

Elena struggled and kicked as the guards picked her up off the floor, hauling her roughly to her feet. Sly trailed behind them, and when Elena shot him a terrified look, could only mouth “ _I’m sorry_.”

They half-carried, half-dragged her along, ignoring Elena’s curses. “That’s no way for a well-bred lady to talk,” the guard named Bianca taunted as they hauled her back to her room. They threw Elena across the doorway and blocked her escape as Sly re-cast the ward, trapping her once again. “The master isn’t going to like hearing this; I expect you’ll be interrogated about it over dinner tonight.”

“Enjoy,” her companion added, and the two laughed, heading off down the corridor. 

Sly crossed the threshold and, after closing the door, crossed the room to sit next to Elena where she’d sunk onto the floor. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Elena looked up at him, her face contorting. “What _was_ that?” she demanded. “It’s like you were in my head, I couldn’t—why couldn’t you just let me _pass?_ ”

“I wanted to,” Sly said, tugging at the collar around his neck with a finger. There was another sizzle, and Elena wrinkled her nose, cringing away from the stench. “This is mostly just for show, but it just reinforces the mark on my wrist. Elena, I’ve told you—I’m just as much a prisoner as you are.” He hesitated, folding his hands in his lap. “You know I’d only use that power to make you stop, right?”

Elena laughed. It sounded bitter to her ears. “A demon with a conscience,” she said. “How _kind._ ” She sighed, hugging her knees. “I could have gotten out of here,” she said. “And then…”

_And then what?_ She didn’t have the first clue where she even was. 

“I know.” Sly stood up and held out a hand, even as he transformed back into her maidservant look. “Come—at the very least I can give you an idea of what to expect while I help you dress.”

* * *

“Well, there’s one good thing about the mud,” Trefor muttered as he and Leon flattened themselves against a wall, waiting for a pack of snuffling coin-shìth to pass, their shaggy tails wagging and tongues lolling, “it disguises the human stink.”

“And undead stink.” Leon said.

“That, too.”

They gave it another moment before the yips and growls of the spectre dogs faded slightly, and they darted across the road, moving like shadows between the buildings.

Sălova might have been a beautiful city once, but its inhabitants were now the undead: hordes of zombies, phalanxes of skeleton guards that patrolled the walls, wights that lurked in the shadows. Leon’s ears were still ringing from a sentry banshee he’d banished half an hour earlier.

The great castle loomed at the far side of the city, surrounded on three sides by steep valley slopes. Only one way in… and only one way out. 

“This place is a bloody fortress,” Trefor said when they took a temporary reprieve in a decrepit butcher’s shop. Meat hooks, crusted with dried blood, swayed slightly in the breeze coming through the broken door. 

“Not like we didn’t know that coming in,” Leon said. He unrolled the map they’d bought at the last town over, spreading it on the counter. “We’re down here in the market square,” he said, pointing, and making a face when dirt smudged on the parchment. “It looks like the fastest route to the castle is up the main road, but that will be swarming with patrols.”

“What about this way?” Trefor said, tracing a back route through the slums that led to the upper district. 

Leon hesitated, grimacing. “It would be less exposed, for sure, but there’s no telling how many people were down there when Wurdulac took over. The place is probably teeming with zombies and crawlers.”

“Alright, then, if you’d rather go up the middle and face those revenants, be my guest,” Trefor said, giving a sarcastic little bow. 

Leon stepped over to the window, carefully peeking outside. Up the main row, a team of ghouls shuffled past, their long, claw-tipped arms dragging on the ground behind them. A revenant captain led the group, black cloak billowing behind their figure. Suddenly, the captain stopped, as did the patrol, and slowly, the captain turned to look directly at Leon.

He resisted the urge to duck back into cover, knowing the sudden movement would only serve to draw the eye. So instead he waited, holding his breath, before the revenant turned away to lead the ghouls on.

Leon rolled up the map and stuffed it roughly in his coat. “Slums it is. Let’s hope we get there before…” He trailed off, trying not to think too hard on the memories.

Trefor clapped Leon’s shoulder. “We _will._ Hey—bet I can take out more monsters than you.”

* * *

Another gold gown, somehow even more disgustingly opulent than the one Elena wore before, clung to her frame as Sly escorted her to the dining hall. Elena entertained the notion of trying to escape again, but her skin crawled at the thought of Sly using his magic on her, even if he only intended to use it to keep her in place.

“It’s going to be blood,” Sly warned as they passed a group of wights bearing cleaning supplies. “Lots of it. He’s trying to tempt you.” He glanced over his shoulder at Elena, whose eyes and cheeks were sunken after three weeks with no food or blood. 

“Then he’ll have to get used to disappointment,” Elena said, lifting her skirts as they ascended a grand, red-carpeted staircase. 

“My lady,” Sly said, stopping at the top, “please, be careful. From what you’ve told me, it sounds like you didn’t know how to play the games humans did, and vampires play by different rules entirely. I’ve spent centuries watching Wurdulac devour his own children who wouldn’t bow to his wishes.”

A sensation like ice-cold water raced down her spine, and Elena shivered. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, and Sly bowed as he opened the door. 

“The Lady Elena Wurdulac,” Sly announced, and Elena stepped inside, holding her breath when she saw the array of goblets laid out on the large, polished table. 

“Oh, my _dear_ ,” Ivan Wurdulac said, rising from his chair. He, too, was clad in fine gold fabrics, jewel-encrusted rings adorning every finger on his left hand. His fingernails were long, diamond-hard talons, and his deep mahogany hair—the same shade as Elena’s—was pulled back with a red velvet ribbon.

Wurdulac came around the table, his robes trailing behind him, and stopped in front of Elena. Up close, she could see other features they shared—the same arched eyebrows, high cheekbones, and handsome nose—and the thought made her stomach churn.

Even his eyes were similar, though while hers were gold, his were the reddish-orange of the coals of a dying fire, and seemed to glow with the same disregard for the harm that would befall any who dared touch. 

“You look so much like your mother,” Wurdulac said, using a single talon to tip Elena’s chin up. She remained still, watching him warily. “Her beauty was like none I’d seen in decades. Tell me, how is she doing?”

Elena lifted her chin farther, away from the talon point, and took a half-step back. “I’m sure she’s delighted now that I’ve been kidnapped,” she said icily, and clamped her mouth shut, trying not to breathe in the smell of blood. So tempting. So close… 

“Kidnapped? Oh, forgive me,” Wudulac said, turning and placing a firm hand on her shoulder and steering her to a chair. “Elena, Elena… such a _hopeful_ name she gave you, isn’t it? You’re so much more fortunate than you seem to realise. I didn’t kidnap you. Please, sit.” He gestured for one of the wight servants to pull out a chair for her, and Elena reluctantly sat, still holding her breath. 

In front of her lay the goblets of blood, so full almost to overflowing. Even the sight of it set her salivating.

No. She’d react the same were a selection of pastries to be placed in front of her. She wasn’t a bloodthirsty creature. She was starving. 

Starving and desperate. 

She realised Wurdulac was watching her with interest, and she took a careful breath in through her mouth. The smell was muted this way, and yet still nearly overpowering. 

“I _rescued_ you,” Wurdulac said, picking up his own goblet and taking a sip. “What do you think those animals might have done to you had I not come to your aid? And now, with you here, you can live in peace, with all the blood you could drink and fine foods you could ask for, if you just set aside that silly human pride of yours and joined me.”

“I know what you’ll do to me if I refuse,” Elena said. She paused, taking another careful breath. The blood called to her, its scent forcing its way into her mouth and throat. “I’ve said no. So what are you waiting for?”

“Your mind to change,” Wurdulac said, watching her over the rim of his goblet. “You’re so young, so impatient. Sometimes this can take months… years, even.”

“You intend to keep me prisoner for years, just to kill me?” Elena said. 

Wurdulac opened his mouth, when he suddenly sat up straighter. Elena twisted around to see a wraith glide through the door to stop by its master. Whatever it had to say, it seemed to communicate silently with Wurdulac; the two stared at each other for a moment before Wurdulac waved an elegant, clawed hand, and the wraith silently turned and faded through the door.

“Let’s not have the evening brought down with such distressing topics,” Wurdulac said somberly. “My dear, it pains me to think about it as much as you.”

Elena very much doubted that.

“But consider instead, the life you could have here,” Wurdulac said. “You could be a _ruler_.”

“I want to go home.”

“And so, here you are,” Wurdulac said, spreading his hands. Elena leaned away from the goblet he’d waved enticingly closer to her. Unbidden, her hand reached toward the goblet before Wurdulac pulled it away from her. 

“Though it suddenly occurs to me that I’ve been a thoughtless host and haven’t shown you around.” His piercing orange gaze bored into her, and Elena wondered if he’d noticed her involuntary movement. 

“Come, my dear Elena,” Wurdulac said, rising from his seat and offering a hand to her. 

_Vampires don’t play the same games._

Elena accepted it with as much grace as she could muster, suppressing a shudder at the feeling of his talons scraping over her skin. She still remembered what those talons felt like, sinking into her arm and dragging her away from escape like a rag doll. Pain like no other, and even though she’d healed away the injuries, she still flinched at the memory.

“I’m sure you’ll come to love the place,” Wurdulac said as he escorted Elena from the room—away from the tantalising smell. Sly was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Slyheart?” Elena asked.

Wurdulac smiled. “Making friends already? Concerned for it, are you? Never you mind. Slyheart is waiting to greet some unexpected guests.”

* * *

The Morning Star, as fearsome a weapon though it was, was also hardly the best for close quarters missions. Leon kept it firmly affixed to his hip as he and Trefor made their way through the slums, which were just as Leon had predicted. The poor and unwanted crammed into the narrow, winding buildings were prime fodder for low-effort necromancy, and their broken, rotting bodies came at them in wave after wave. 

“Leon!” Trefor called, and Leon whirled just in time to see Trefor hurl a crawler at him, sword currently occupied fending off another zombie. 

Leon slashed the severed torso in half and it disintegrated, and Leon moved forward to help. 

A loud, shrieking hiss came from the mouth of the alley, and Trefor pulled his sword free in a spray of viscera as he turned to face the ghouls pouring down the alley. A shade led the charge, green pinpoints of light glowing in its empty eye sockets.

“Think we’re getting close to the castle?” Trefor called.

Leon merely adjusted his grip on the sword and rushed forward to meet the assailants.

Every sword strike, every step of footwork, the two men knew thanks to years of practice. 

For Trefor, each battle was a dance, a game, a sport to be savoured. 

Leon just wanted this dance to end. He pressed forward with grim determination, hope rising in his chest even as he squashed it down. The young Baroness had been missing for three weeks; one had already passed by the time he and Trefor were able to answer the summons, and by that time, the lady Baroness was already dead.

With each new enemy he faced, he wondered when he’d be seeing her, if he’d end up staring into Sara’s face and the fate he tried to save her from.

The chain of the Morning Star rattled at his hip with each thrust of his sword. 

_What if he’d condemned her to something far worse?_

They reached the massive gates, and Trefor scaled the portcullis like a monkey, swinging up onto the stone wall and finding hand and footholds in the tiniest chinks of stone. Leon scanned the area, and, finding a torch sconce near the top of the wall, unwound his bullwhip that he kept at his back. 

His arm shot forward, and the whip wrapped itself around the sconce. Leon took several steps along the base of the wall before getting a running start, leaping into the air and using the momentum to swing up and over. His fingertips grabbed the edge of the wall, and Trefor reached over to pull him up the rest of the way.

“ _Merci_ ,” Leon grunted. 

“ _Â_ _chroeso,_ ” Trefor said, grinning. His teeth were the only clean part of him at this point, between all of the mud and rotten blood that covered him. Leon supposed he didn’t look much better at this point. 

“I hope the young Baroness isn’t picky about a bit of dirt,” Leon said, and Trefor laughed. 

“If she is, she’ll just have to live with it,” he said, dropping over the wall.

They fought their way through the courtyard teeming with skeletal soldiers whose fragile bones shattered beneath their weapons. Free from the confines of the slums, Leon was finally able to swing the Morning Star in wide, devastating circles, taking out swaths of monsters at a time. 

“Maybe I should get a whip,” Trefor panted when they stood ankle-deep in skeleton dust. 

“You’d be frustrated with it within a day,” Leon said. He wrapped the chain around his arm, sending a silent apology to Sara. He’d clean the Morning Star when they were out of this safely. 

They hurried across the courtyard, clouds of dust rising with each step, and ascended the wide stone steps that led to the doors. 

Only one way in. Only one way out. 

Before Trefor could touch the doors, they swung open of their own accord to reveal a devastatingly beautiful young woman with dark red hair that fell to her waist, a low-cut sheer gown snug across her body and a silver collar at her throat. Her brilliant emerald eyes were fixed directly on them.

  
“ _Welcome_ ,” Slyheart said, her voice dripping with magic, and Leon felt his world recede. “ _Won’t you put down your weapons and come with me? The master would very much like to see you._ ”


	3. Chapter 3

Leon slowly set the Morning Star on the floor, then pulled his sword from its scabbard and laid it carefully beside the coiled chain.

“Leon,” Trefor hissed. “What are you _doing?_ ”

Leon didn’t respond, staring dumbstruck at the red-haired woman who stood before them. 

“Oh,” she said, turning her gaze on Trefor. “Now, isn’t this interesting. Something a little more to your tastes?”

She shifted, becoming an achingly handsome man with rugged stubble lining his jaw, wearing nothing but a pair of tight leather trousers and knee-high boots. Trefor slowly stooped to grab the Morning Star mid-transformation; when he stood up, Leon was coming out of his trance.

“Leon, it’s a—!”

“ _Now, that’s not very nice_ ,” the man said, and Leon was enthralled again.

Trefor gripped the Morning Star in one hand, keeping it safe until Leon could take it again. 

“ _I said, put down your—_ ”

Trefor lunged, and the succubus danced backwards.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, easy!” the succubus said, holding his hands up. “No magic here, see?”

“Release him, then!” Trefor snarled, and swung again. The succubus ducked under the swing, and then he was behind Trefor.

“Look, I’m not a fighter,” the succubus said.

“Then defeating you should be easy!” Trefor’s blade flashed, and the succubus bent backwards to avoid it before rolling out of the way to avoid another strike. 

“I—can’t—release—him,” the succubus said, dodging each of Trefor’s blows. “The spell—” He jumped over a swipe aimed at his feet. “I want to help!”

Trefor drew back, keeping a ready stance. “Why the _bloody Hell_ would you want to help?”

The succubus slowly lifted his hands, gingerly pointing to the collar on his neck with one and showing Trefor the rune branded on his wrist as it began to glow. Sweat began to bead on his forehead. “See this?”

“I don’t read magic,” Trefor snorted. 

“It’s a binding enchantment,” the succubus said. “Look, for some reason I can’t use my magic on you, or else the both of you would be walking straight to my master right now. But!” He held up his index fingers, breath coming in short gasps. “There’s a loophole. If you defeat me—whoa, hey, sword, sword! Pointy!”

Trefor kept the sword tip pointed under the succubus’ chin. “Keep talking.”

“Then I can _guide_ you,” the succubus said, sweating more profusely. “Wouldn’t that be more useful than killing me?”

“How do I know you won’t be leading us straight into a trap?” Trefor said, his frown deepening.

The succubus got down on his knees—Trefor instinctively took a step back—and prostrated himself, facedown, his entire body shuddering. “I’m fighting the enchantment right now; I’ll have to attack you if you don’t—just hurry!”

Leon was going to give him Hell for this.

Trefor knew his sword and the Morning Star would likely kill this… creature, so he set them aside, straddling the succubus’ hips as he pinned the demon’s wrists above his head, still facedown on the floor. “Defeated enough?” he asked awkwardly, sending up a silent prayer that _this_ wouldn’t be the first thing Leon would see when he snapped out of it.

The rune glowing on the succubus’ wrist faded, though it remained branded into his skin. 

“Oh, _yes_ ,” the succubus said in a tone that could have either been lust or relief. Trefor’s nose wrinkled.

“Trefor!”

Of course _now_ would be the time Leon came to.

“Hang on, Leon, this isn’t what it looks like!” Trefor yelled as Leon sprinted toward them, sliding across the floor the last few feet before he scooped up the Morning Star, wrapping it around Trefor and dragging him off the succubus. “He’s our prisoner now!”

Leon froze before letting Trefor go, looking uncertainly between Trefor and the succubus. “... _Quel?_ ”

“Can I get up now?” the succubus said, his voice muffled by the floor. “It’s a little cold down here.”

“...Yes,” Leon said slowly, deciding to put his trust in Trefor. “Try anything and you’re dead, demon.”

The succubus gave a dramatic sigh as he climbed to his feet, and reverted to what seemed to be his preferred body: a lithe young man with a shock of that same crimson hair, deep green eyes, and a smart suit befitting a servant of nobility.

“Thank you,” he said, giving them a deep bow. “My name is Slyheart, and I know where to find your missing Baroness.” He paused, giving Leon and Trefor’s filthy appearances a once-over, and wrinkled his nose. “You _are_ here to rescue her, right?”

* * *

Elena was escorted through the castle by Wurdulac, his strong hand clamped firmly on her shoulder, but not so tightly as to dig in. It was like after his initial strike to keep her from escaping, he had no interest in harming her again.

Yet.

She had to admit the castle was beautiful, in its own… rather garish way. Wurdulac seemed to be of the opinion that the more laden with gold something was, the better. Even the furniture in the library he showed her was gilded.

“What do you think, my dear?” Wurdulac said as they went deeper into the castle, through a gallery of portraits whose eyes seemed to follow them as they walked.

“It’s big,” Elena said truthfully.

“Do you like it, though?” Wurdulac’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Elena considered her answer carefully. “I can see a lot of time went into decorating the place.”

“It did,” Wurdulac said, sounding amused. “Though would you like to see the place I’ve spent the most time perfecting?”

“N—”

He steered her down, deeper, deeper, where the undead who tended the castle became less of the clean, more humanlike kind, and were gradually replaced with the more fetid, the rotting. Elena’s gown, which very well could have cost enough to feed a village for a month, dragged in the filth that coated the slimy floor despite her best efforts to keep the skirts up. She was soon forced to admit the dress was beyond preservation, and let the skirts drop, only for a crawler to reach out from the darkness and grab hold of it. She shrieked, and on instinct, jerked away, closer to Wurdulac.

“It’s okay, my dear,” he said, taking the opportunity to drape an arm around Elena’s shoulders. He hissed at the crawler, which gurgled back and began clawing itself away with jagged fingernails, entrails and broken spine dragging behind it. “Nothing will harm you down here while you’re with me.”

* * *

Slyheart made a conscious effort to stay out of the humans’ way as they fought through the ranks of mindless undead guards who seemed to come at them in endless numbers to keep them from moving forward.

“How do you know where she is if Wurdulac’s taking her on a tour of the castle?” Leon asked as Slyheart (“Sly, please, Slyheart’s just _so_ formal.”) led them deeper into the bowels. 

Sly picked at his fingernails. “Duck,” he said, and Leon and Trefor flattened themselves as darts flew from the walls on either side of them, sailing harmlessly through the demon. “Because it’s all up in here, of course,” he added when they stood up. He pointed at his head, a finger digging into the temple. “I’ve been bound by Wurdulac to this castle and its inhabitants. He uses me as an attack dog, you see—keeps his prisoners in line. Your Baroness is in the castle’s dungeons as we speak.”

“The dungeons?” Trefor said in alarm.

“She’s not being _kept_ there,” Sly reassured him. “The only thing down there is—” His eyes went huge. “ _Oh._ This way!” 

And then he took off running, Trefor and Leon hot on his heels and wondering if they weren’t making some terrible mistake.

* * *

Elena stared in horror at the sight before her. 

This part of the dungeon wasn’t nearly as damp and teeming with zombies as the rest she’d seen, but this was by far the most awful thing she’d seen in her life.

Pens, human pens, full of human livestock. Their emaciated hands reached through the bars, pleas for help falling on Wurdulac’s deaf ears.

Elena stopped when one of the hands grabbed her skirt, smearing it in yet another place with more grime. Whoever this was, they’d been here a very long time. She knelt, catching the hand between both of hers, mindful of her own strength, and a pair of timid brown eyes stared back at her.

The hand was pale, clammy, like a dead fish that had never seen the sun. 

“Please,” the hand’s owner moaned, and Elena determined it belonged to a young woman, possibly no older than herself. “Help us.”

“What’s your name?” Elena said, but was forced back when Wurdulac clicked his fingers and a pair of guards appeared to unlock the cell and drag its occupant out by the arms. 

“No!” the woman screamed, and the hands grasping from the cells retreated. “Please, no! I have a husband, I have a niece and nephew who need me, let me go, please!”

Wurdulac ignored the woman’s screams as he stepped forward, the guards holding her still as his fingernails pricked her skin.

Elena’s senses were assaulted with the smell of blood, and her nostrils flared.

“Oh, my daughter,” Wurdulac said. “Three weeks… three long weeks with nothing to eat or drink. Consider her my gift to you.” He forcibly turned the woman’s head to look at Elena. Brown eyes met red, and the woman’s sobs intensified. “Go on, Elena. Help yourself. I saw how longingly you reached for my goblet in the dining hall; I know how desperately you desire this. Don't be afraid of what you are.”

Elena swallowed down the bile that clashed with the saliva urging her to drink. 

She couldn’t, she mustn’t. 

She took a step back, shaking her head.

Wurdulac sighed, letting go of the woman. 

For a second, Elena thought that was the end of it.

In a flash, Wurdulac whirled, his talons striking the woman across the throat even as he deftly sidestepped the spray of crimson that spurted out with her heartbeats, covering Elena’s face and gown with blood.

Immediately, Elena held her breath again, but Wurdulac disappeared behind her when she blinked, and grabbed the back of her neck, forcing her to her knees and bringing the torn throat closer. 

“Enjoy, sweet daughter,” Wurdulac crooned, and then Elena was drinking, sobbing as she did so. 

* * *

The crawlers and ghouls that lurked in the dungeon barely posed a threat to Trefor and Leon, ignoring Sly as he ran on ahead of them. 

“Probably off to warn his master he got us right where they want us, eh?” Trefor called over the din of battle.

“I think the time to wonder such things was when you talked me into keeping a bloody demon alive,” Leon grunted as he redirected the Morning Star to strike a zombie that lunged at him from an alcove. 

“You’re the one who let me talk you into keeping a bloody demon alive!” 

“We don’t have time for this,” Leon snapped. His eyes widened when he saw an enormous, putrid zombie shambling up behind Trefor. “Llewellyn! Behind you!”

Trefor spun at the shout and his sword flashed in an upwards arc; he leapt backwards to avoid the blackened entrails that came spilling out onto the floor, where they burst in a spray of fetid sludge.

Trefor gagged, nearly getting clawed by a ghoul whose swipe he ducked. “Fucking _zombies!_ Remind me why we became hunters again?”

“ _No!_ ” a voice echoed from deeper in the dungeon. “ _Please, no! I have a husband, I have a niece and nephew who need me, let me go, please!_ ”

Leon and Trefor’s heads snapped around at the shout that was quickly followed by screaming, then silence.

“That’s why,” Leon said grimly, recoiling the Morning Star and taking off running.

The hunters found them in the pens. Wurdulac stood resplendent in his gold robes, hands folded behind his back as he watched a vampiress in a blood-soaked gown drink greedily from the neck of a lifeless woman. 

“Oh, dear, dear me,” Wurdulac said, easily stepping out of the way of Leon’s opening attack with the Morning Star. Leon used his elbow as a pivot point, redirecting his strike to smack the vampiress off her victim. 

Rather than exploding, however, she fell against the wall and landed in a heap, where she curled up into a protective ball. 

Leon didn’t have time to worry about that; Wurdulac turned to mist, rushing between his and Trefor’s legs to reform behind them. He swatted away Trefor’s attack with his talons, sparks flying up with a horrible screech of steel, and hit Trefor in the middle of the chest with an open-palm strike, sending the hunter flying. 

“Really now,” Wurdulac said in amusement as he ducked under Leon’s next attack. He caught the hunter by the neck, lifting him off his feet as Leon kicked and struggled for air, “what is it with you heroes and your saviour complexes? When will you learn that no matter what you do, you’ll never win? Why do you care when you don’t stand a chance?”

It was at that moment Trefor sprinted forward and punched Wurdulac right in the face.

Wurdulac was so startled by the sheer audacity of the attack he dropped Leon, who drew his sword and plunged it into Wurdulac’s heart.

Leon smiled humourlessly as he leaned in. “You’re wrong. I stopped caring long ago.”

He withdrew his sword, and he and Trefor backed up as the vampire swelled and exploded, black smoke rushing out to fill the room.

When it cleared, Leon and Trefor looked at each other, coughing and waving smoke away from their faces. 

“You had a _sword_ ,” Leon said, his expression pained.

“Oh, okay, give me shit for it, Lord Drama Queen,” Trefor said, giving Leon a sarcastic bow. “ _I stopped caring long ago_ , do you even hear yourself?”

Leon had already stopped listening. He turned his attention to the vampiress huddled against the wall, watching them with wide, terrified eyes.

Gold eyes. _Inhuman_ eyes.

He’d been too late to save her. Just like he’d been too late to save Sara.

Leon raised his sword. She closed her eyes, accepting her fate—and Leon hesitated.

He’d seen her feeding. Hell, her mouth and gown were stained with the blood of the poor woman who lay by Leon’s feet. But she wasn’t trying to attack him or Trefor, even though by all rights she should have been loyal to Wurdulac.

“Leon?” Trefor said uncertainly when he hesitated.

A shadow detached itself from Trefor’s feet and he startled, but the shadow became solid, and revealed itself to be Sly, who pulled a handkerchief from his waistcoat as he knelt next to the turned Baroness, gently wiping away the blood from her mouth. She startled at his touch, but kept her eyes closed, scrunching up her face and trying to draw away.

“She’s starving,” Sly said, looking up at Leon and Trefor pleadingly. “Her father’s kept her locked in a room for weeks now, depriving her of food or water.”

Elena’s eyes tentatively opened, and she bit her lip, a pair of tiny fangs pricking her skin. 

“My lady—no,” Sly said, glancing down at his wrist where the magical brand had vanished. “Elena? I’m going to call you Elena now, just because I can. Elena, this is Leon Belmont and Trefor Llewellyn. They’re here to rescue you.”

Elena’s eyes flickered warily towards the sword in Leon’s hand. “Funny sort of rescue,” she finally said. Now that things were beginning to calm down a little, Leon could see that what Sly was telling them seemed to be true; though the feeding revitalised her somewhat, Elena’s face was still gaunt, her frame painfully thin beneath her stained gown.

She lifted her chin slightly towards the pens, her voice trembling as she spoke. “You should help them.”

Trefor glanced at Leon, a silent request for permission; Leon inclined his head, not taking his eyes off Elena, and Trefor hurried to begin unlocking the cages. 

“It’s alright, we’re here to save you…”

Leon and Elena remained staring at each other, blue eyes boring into ashamed gold. 

“I never meant to kill her,” Elena whispered, breaking eye contact to glance at the woman she’d fed from, then down at the straw-strewn floor now soaked with blood. “She said she had a husband, a-and a niece and nephew, and… I… I never knew her name.” She ducked her head, her shoulders shaking in muted sobs as tears spilled down her cheeks. 

Watery tears. _Human_ tears.

Every instinct in his body was screaming at Leon to not do it, but he slowly sheathed his blade, thinking back to the fight. He remembered hitting her with the Morning Star, very clearly; yet she hadn’t gone up in flames, and now here she was crying not tears of blood, but of water and salt, and Sly offered her the bloody handkerchief he'd used to wipe her mouth. 

Elena took it, knotting the cloth between her fingers rather than using it to dry her tears. 

“What _are_ you?” Leon finally asked, kneeling next to her and studying her face. “If you’re the Baron Munteanu’s daughter—”

Elena shook her head. “He raised me as his own,” she said, sounding slightly dazed. “My mother is the Baroness Munteanu, but my father…” Her eyes strayed towards the pile of gold robes and gem-encrusted rings on the floor, and Leon followed her gaze. Elena shuddered and he re-fixed his attention on her face.

“My father _was_ Ivan Wurdulac. I’m... only half vampire.”

Leon’s jaw hit the floor. “ _Quel?!_ ”


	4. Chapter 4

Leon and Trefor realised pretty quickly that trying to get Elena and the humans from the pens to safety would be difficult travelling as a group, especially with the blood of the woman Elena had fed on still going cold on the floor.

They debated back and forth while the waiting humans grew ever-restless and Sly played with a ball of straw, batting it around with his hands while he sat cross-legged on the ground.

“We’ll split up,” Sly announced loudly after nearly two minutes. “Leon takes Elena, Trefor and I take the refugees.”

“Excuse me, who said you were calling the shots?” Trefor said, turning to eye the demon, still engrossed with his straw ball. 

“I did,” Sly said, unconcernedly. “But you’d probably like to know that Wurdulac’s got a couple of kids like Elena there, and they’re _very_ loyal to Daddy Dearest. They’re away _now_ , but we should put some distance between us and this wretched place before they return. Unless you’d like to fight a trio of pissed-off dhampirs?” he added innocently.

Leon made a note of the word. _Dhampir._ Elena’s half-siblings must be like her, then—and he wouldn’t have the first idea where to start killing a monster immune to consecrated weapons.

“Alright, then,” Trefor said, glancing at Leon. “How’s that sound to you?”

Leon hesitated.

“Oh, don’t tell me the great Leon Belmont, slayer of Walter Bernhard, is scared of one dhampir who just wants to go home,” Sly said impatiently. “Look, just _feed_ her something, human food or whatever—”

“I’m right here, you know,” Elena said quietly. Leon turned to look at her, reed-thin and dressed in a once-fine ballgown of exquisite make now torn and bloody. “You need to get these people to safety, and you need to return me to my father. My _real_ father,” she added, and Trefor made an indecisive noise in the back of his throat. “Take them home. Take me home. I’m…” She ducked her head, her hands curling into slow fists. “I fed off a human, but I’m—” Her voice broke. “I’m not a monster. I just want to go back to my parents.”

Trefor opened his mouth to speak, but Leon cut him off before he could tell Elena her mother was dead. “And that’s why we’re here,” he said. “We’ll go with what the… demon suggested.” His mouth twisted unhappily as he spoke. “Rădăuți is the next closest settlement. We’ll meet up in three days’ time and continue south from there.”

“You’re just going to set _that_ loose on the world?” a woman from the crowd yelled, jabbing a finger at Elena, and the other prisoners murmured assent. “When she _ate_ Adelina?!”

“I think that’s our cue to leave,” Sly said, bumping Trefor with his hip. “There’s a secret exit down this passage—we’ll take the humans that way, Leon Belmont can take the young miss out the front gate.”

“But aren’t there—?” Elena said, her eyes huge.

Leon silenced her with a look. “I’ll explain on the way.” He held out his hand, and he and Trefor clasped wrists. “Safe travels, my friend.”

“And you.” Trefor gave Elena an odd look, before turning and ushering the crowd away amid their protestations. 

“I don’t like this,” Leon said, shaking his head as he watched them leave for a moment, before turning to Elena and gesturing for her to come with him. “Trefor can handle himself, but that demon—”

“Sly is a good person,” Elena protested.

“Says the dhampir,” Leon said coolly, and Elena reeled like she’d been slapped. “Come—Wurdulac’s creations won’t have survived their master’s demise, but it would be wise to not linger.”

Elena was reluctant to follow, but what did she have to lose by doing so? He could have just as easily killed her in the pens, and maybe only Sly would have minded. If he really was here to take her home, she just had to trust him. 

She’d already been through Hell; this would be nothing.

“There’s vampire guards,” Elena said uncertainly as Leon led her back up through the dungeons, past lifeless corpses left immobile without the spark of necromancy to animate them. “Are you—?”

“I’ve spent the last several years of my life dedicated to hunting vampires,” Leon said curtly. “I have my ways.”

“Then… why not kill me?”

Leon glanced behind him at her, and Elena swallowed. “Because your _human_ father wants you alive,” he said at long last. “He never mentioned the blood that flows in your veins isn’t his.”

Elena gingerly sidestepped around a corpse that Leon simply stepped over. “He didn’t know I wasn’t… his,” she said carefully, her hands knotting in her skirts. “Not at first, anyway. He hoped I _was_ his, after my mother told him she was raped by that _monster_.” Elena drew in a shaking breath and instantly regretted it as the smell of rot and decay assaulted her nose. “When my fangs grew in, they hid me away. That was the last time I really saw the sun outside of my window.”

Leon paused as he held a door open for Elena to pass through. “You’ve not seen the outdoors since then?”

“No.” Elena’s voice was soft, almost tiny as she spoke. “My parents were afraid of what would happen, were I to venture outside. For good reason, I suppose,” she added, laughing bitterly.

Leon held his hand up in a clenched fist and Elena fell silent, listening intently. She couldn’t hear anything out of the ordinary, but Leon’s hand dropped to his chain, and—

He whirled. “ _Duck._ ”

Elena ducked, and the chain flew over her head to strike a vampire guard in the chest. He swelled and exploded, and in a single motion, Leon drew the chain back and sent it flying again to strike the second vampire emerging from the shadows.

“What I don’t understand,” Leon said as he recoiled the chain, ignoring the way the vampire exploded in a wash of heat that caused Elena to throw up her arms; “is why you weren’t affected by the Morning Star.”

“It _hurt_ ,” Elena protested. “Some rescue this is—”

“I saw you feeding off a human,” Leon said flatly. “You’ve got fangs, your eyes are anything _but_ human, but—”

“But what?” Elena protested. “I’ve already told you I’m not a full vampire—”

“What do you think is easier to believe?” Leon said curtly, his coat whipping around his legs in a spray of mud as he rounded a corner. He kept his ears pricked, hand on his weapon in case she decided to try and attack him from behind. “That a vampire has somehow managed to negate the magics and alchemy in my weapon, or that a human and a vampire were capable of having a child together?”

Elena crossed her arms, and immediately uncrossed them when that made the blood soak through the fabric of her chest and against her skin. “I don’t know what else to tell you,” she said softly. “I’m half human. Before…” She hugged herself again, tears welling up in her eyes. “Before I was kidnapped, I’d never had blood before.”

Leon glanced behind him at that. “You can survive on human food alone?”

“It’s worked for the last eighteen years of my life.”

Leon turned to look at her full-on at this. “Forgive my rudeness, but you look older than eighteen.” He paused, then hastened to add, “Not to say that you look old, just… closer to my age.”

Elena grimaced. “I aged quickly. I looked fully grown by the time I was thirteen.”

Leon matched her expression and turned his attention back to the front, peering around a corner before waving her forward. 

* * *

They made it out of the castle without any trouble Leon couldn't handle; his strange chain whip made short work of the few vampire guards left from his and Trefor's assault.

Elena lifted her skirts higher as she gingerly stepped around the rotting bodies that littered the courtyard. “I don’t understand,” she said, her voice unnervingly loud in the deserted night. “They were… animated, just earlier today.”

“Wurdulac was a powerful necromancer, but not even his spells held upon his death,” Leon said grimly. “This city will soon fall to ruin and become a haunted shell. May God have mercy on the tormented souls who won’t be able to move on.”

“Can’t you do something about it with that… chain?” Elena asked, nodding at the Morning Star. 

Leon’s grip tightened around it. “Souls are tricky things,” he said. “Most, in time, move on. Some of them remain bound to Earth and do not. Whoever we leave tonight will find their peace, eventually.”

“That’s… good,” Elena said uncertainly as she and Leon came to the massive iron portcullis. “How did you get over this before?”

“Climbed,” Leon said, ducking inside the gatehouse and pulling the lever to open the portcullis. 

“You and the Welshman climbed over _that?_ ”

“Trefor. And yes.” 

The gate rattled open with a creaking of old chains, and Leon ducked under as soon as it was open enough for him to do so. “We should hurry. I don’t want to be out in the open when your siblings show up.” His lip curled. “The demon said there were three?”

“Two sisters and a brother,” Elena said, internally cursing the skirts’ hindering her as she hurried down the steps after Leon. “Lady Ramona, Lady Clare, and Lord Verea.”

“All bastard children of noblewomen, or are the titles just airs your father put on because he took over a castle?” Leon said disdainfully.

Elena's hands clenched into fists in her skirts. “I don’t know. I never met any of them.”

“Well, if anything with fangs attacks us in the day, we’ll know,” Leon said, pursing his lips. “Unless you get to me first.”

“Tell me, Mr Belmont, have you always had a burning hatred for everything vampiric in origin, regardless of who they are?” Elena snapped. It didn’t escape her how his fingers curled on the handle of his weapon, but it had barely bruised her before, and she was _mad_ , far more furious than she’d ever been in her life, and the gnawing hunger in her stomach wasn’t doing her mood any favours. “I have told you to the edge of my patience and back, I am not the monster you think I am. I’ve been locked in a single tower room for weeks now, deprived of food and water, and forced to drink the blood of an innocent woman and all I want to do is go _home!_ ” 

She realised she was crying, and angrily wiped them away, sinking to the cobbled street, her bloodied skirts pooling around her as she buried her face in her hands. 

Leon hesitated; out of all the things he’d expected to do today, comforting a crying half-vampire was not one of them, and they needed to get out of here as soon as possible… which wouldn’t be happening until Elena got ahold of herself.

So he sat next to her and put a gloved hand on her shoulder; she flinched at the touch, but didn’t pull away. 

“I’ll get you home,” he said quietly. “I promised your father I would; he’s got plans to send you somewhere safe, but he wants to see you before he does.”

Elena nodded, still crying too hard to speak. 

Leon sighed. “I… look. Come here.” He scooted over a little closer, ignoring the way his skin crawled at willingly getting closer to her, and put a ginger arm around her shoulders. Elena leaned into his touch, and it struck him just how _delicate_ she was under his arm. 

Not a monster. Just a scared girl missing her father.

And mother, too, he supposed, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her that her mother had been murdered by the same mob that tried to burn her.

He’d tell her later, when they were out of danger. 

Leon let Elena cry until her sobs subsided, and she sat up a little straighter, wiping mud off her face. 

“You’re filthy,” she said through a stuffy nose, and Leon laughed despite himself, standing and offering her a hand to help her to her feet. 

“There’s a river not far from here,” he said. “Come on; we’ve lost enough time here as it is.”


	5. Chapter 5

On their way out of the city, Leon and Elena stopped for him to raid several houses; he found a set of clothes that looked like they might fit Elena’s tiny frame—nearly a foot shorter than him—as well as some extra provisions for the road. 

“We need to start getting your strength back,” Leon said, handing Elena a strip of dried meat he’d found while rummaging through cupboards. “I know it’s not much for now, but I’ll hunt when we stop for the night.”

She nodded and tore into the food, and Leon tried not to stare at her fangs as she ate ravenously, even licking her fingers of the lingering flavours when she was done.

Maybe he’d see if she’d like to bleed whatever game he managed to catch for them. He had the unnerving sense that she wouldn’t be able to recover quickly without blood; certainly, her vampiric heritage was the only reason she had survived for so long without human sustenance. 

He really didn’t know what he might do if she needed _human_ blood.

“You’ll need to ditch that gown,” Leon added, handing her the clothes when she’d finished. “It’s just going to slow you down.”

“ _Breeches?_ ” Elena said when she held up the offending clothes. “But these are men’s—”

“It’s going to be several weeks before we get back to your father,” Leon said bluntly. “Look—” He tossed a wool cap on top of the tunic left folded on the table. “You can tuck your hair into that. It’ll be safer to travel on the roads if you’re disguised as a boy; Speakers do it all the time.”

Elena made a face; she knew he was right, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. Besides, there was a nip of winter in the air; the hat would be welcome regardless.

Leon turned away to let her undress, and Elena strained to reach the lacing at the back of her dress.

“Are you decent?” Leon asked, and Elena gave an unladylike grunt in response. 

“I can’t… reach,” she finally admitted, and Leon turned back to her. 

He was suddenly very glad for the mud that covered his blush. “I can get that for you,” he said, and Elena went unnaturally still as his hands found the laces, long fingers working at the intricate knots Sly had tied before he gave up and drew one of his knives, cutting the lacing in one fluid motion. 

“Thank you,” Elena said, her voice strained as Leon turned away again.

“ _De rien_ ,” Leon muttered, very intently studying a knot in the wood on the far wall.

He heard the dress hit the floor in a rustle of silk, and then the sound of Elena pulling the shirt over her head. 

“What’s a Frenchman doing in Wallachia, anyway?” Elena asked as she tugged the breeches on. She had to admit, it made for a nice change from the oppressively heavy skirts she was used to.

Leon closed his eyes.

_“At least… this way, I’ll still be with you.”_

_“I love you, Sara. I’m sorry.”_

“It’s a long story,” he said heavily. “And not one I feel like sharing. Are you ready?”

“Just shoes left.”

Leon turned back, his eyes flickering down to Elena’s legs as she pulled on the soft buckskin boots. “And your hair,” he added. She paused, glancing up and giving him a flat look. “Never mind,” he muttered, and paced to the window, cracking open the shutters to glance outside. 

“Anything?” Elena asked anxiously while she hurriedly did up the laces, then swung the fur cloak around her shoulders. 

“No.” Leon remained watching as the first rays of dawn crept into the sky, turning it a pale yellow at the edges. “We still shouldn’t linger, though. Tell me, how good is your sense of smell?”

“My—?”

“Vampires have enhanced senses; smell is the most prominent,” Leon said, turning back as Elena twisted her hair around her hand to tuck it into the cap. “If your siblings come after us to avenge your father, they’ll be tracking us by scent.”

“It’s… well, I’ve never tested it,” Elena said defensively, hurrying after Leon as he headed out the door. “All I know is you reek of swamp mud.”

“Even I can tell that,” Leon said dryly, and despite herself, Elena giggled nervously.

Leon glanced over his shoulder at her when she laughed and flinched at the sight of her fangs; it didn’t escape Elena’s notice, and she quickly clamped her mouth shut. Leon sighed and tossed her another strip of meat. 

“Try not to eat too fast,” he said as Elena tore off a bite. “The last thing I want is you being sick on me.”

“Like that would make so much of a difference?” Elena mumbled around a mouthful of food.

She didn’t think Leon heard, but when he turned his head, she just caught the tail end of a faint smile.

* * *

It was nearly midday when they reached the river, the sun providing none of its usual warmth despite the brightness that shone through skeletal tree branches. Leon made a strange gesture with his hands, whispering something in a language Elena didn’t recognise, and steam began rising from the waters.

She took an involuntary step back, drawing her cloak tighter around her. “You’re a sorcerer?”

Leon laughed mirthlessly, stripping off his coat and holding it up to examine. “Hardly,” he said. “The vampire I’ve been hunting for the last half decade, however, is. I feel it’s best to know one’s enemy, and I’ve found that mastering a few simple spells just makes my life that much easier.”

He crouched by the river, coat in his hands, and began scrubbing the fabric together, the mud breaking off and washing away in a murky cloud. Elena leaned against a tree, watching as he worked. Now that the filthy coat was gone, she could see his shirt was nearly as bad; whatever had happened in the events leading up to her rescue, he must have been soaked through and freezing.

“Will you keep watch?” Leon asked, hanging the coat over a branch, and Elena startled when she realised he was taking off his shirt. 

“Oh, now you trust me to guard you while you bathe?” she said archly, turning away hastily—though not before she caught a glimpse of his lean, muscled frame, a thin trail of fair hair running from his navel and disappearing below his waistband.

She heard Leon sigh behind her. “It’s either that, or go all the way back to your father caked in dirt and smelling like a sty,” he said, balling up his clothes and taking them with him into the water to give them a vigorous scrubbing. “And you had plenty of opportunity to rip my throat out earlier while you were sobbing on my shoulder.” Once the water ran clear, he tossed the clothes onto the frosty grass. “Hang those up for me?” Without waiting for an answer, he ducked under the water, attacking his hair and wishing he had soap.

Elena hesitated, but turned to snatch up his shirt and breeches, hanging them up next to Leon’s coat. She startled when Leon stood up, shaking out his pale blond hair in a spray of water. 

She hadn’t even thought about what colour his hair might be under all that mud.

“It’ll be a race to get through the mountain pass before the first snow,” Leon said, squeezing water out of his hair. “Ideally, Trefor and I will be able to secure horses when we reach Rădăuți—”

“How come you didn’t have any before?” Elena interrupted, trying _very_ hard not to stare at the droplets of water running down Leon’s chest. 

“Night creatures,” Leon said. He splashed more water over his chest to rinse away the last of the dirt on his torso. “Nasty things, though they’re usually wild and act without direction, unless they were created by a forgem—is something the matter?” He turned to look behind him, and Elena realised she wasn’t not staring as well as she’d thought.

“No, nothing,” she said quickly. When Leon arched an eyebrow, she felt her face heat up as blood rushed to her cheeks. “Ehm.” She quickly turned away, her back ramrod straight. “If you must know, until a few weeks ago, the only man I’d ever laid eyes on was my father,” she said stiffly, and her face reddened further still at Leon’s quiet laughter behind her.

“Well, nothing special to see here,” he said. “Though you may wish to keep your back turned; I’m getting out.”

This, of course, sent Elena’s imagination into overdrive, and she cleared her throat, trying to gather her renegade thoughts. “So, horses,” she said in a deliberate attempt to distract herself. “You don’t think we might lose them on the way back as well?”

Leon flicked his fingers at his clothes, and they dried in a hiss of steam; he pulled his breeches on as he considered. “It’s possible,” he said. “But it took us nearly two weeks to get to Sălova _with_ horses; without, it would be even longer to get you home, and we risk getting snowed in and having to take the longer path.”

Elena risked impropriety and peeked over her shoulder to see Leon pull his shirt over his head, buckling the wide leather belt at his waist before swinging the pale blue coat around his shoulders. 

“But in the meantime, it’s a three day hike to Rădăuți under the best circumstances, and I’ve wasted enough time getting clean,” Leon said, and began walking again. “And you’ve never had to hike a day in your life. We need to hurry.”

* * *

They fell into tense silence again as they walked; Elena kept glancing sidelong at Leon, wondering if there was something she should say, what he had on his mind, if he would be upset with her if she even spoke.

He was right, she’d never needed to hike before, but she was quickly starting to realise her vampiric strength seemed to extend to her endurance; even when they were hiking uphill and Leon’s breathing became a little more laboured, she never felt any different from walking over a perfectly level surface. 

Or, at least, that was how she felt at first. 

The day wore on, and despite Leon handing her strips of cured meat at regular intervals to give her stomach a break, she could feel herself fatiguing. The sky was only just beginning to turn orange when Elena’s head swam, and she sat down very abruptly in the middle of the road.

“Miss Munteanu, we’ve still got a few hours of daylight left,” Leon said impatiently when he heard her stop, but then he turned to see her sitting in the road. After a moment’s debate, Leon crouched beside her. Her face was pale and feverish, and there was a red tint to her eye he really didn’t like.

“ _Merde,_ ” Leon hissed through his teeth, shrugging one arm out of his coat and rolling up his shirt sleeve.

Elena’s face was pleading. “H-help…”

“May God protect me,” Leon muttered, and before Elena could protest, he’d pulled a hidden knife from his breast pocket, making an incision in the crook of his elbow. 

Elena immediately held her breath, but the smell hit her nose and sent her mouth watering. “I didn’t mean—”

“You need blood,” Leon said tersely. “I give mine willingly; please don’t make a fuss.”

He held his arm out to Elena, and she looked up at him with frightened eyes; Leon’s were uncertain, wary, but he gave a curt nod. 

She brought her lips to his arm and began to drink, careful not to nick him with her fangs. 

Leon supposed she must not have had a lot to drink in the dungeon, because the change was almost immediate as she gulped down mouthfuls of his blood; her eyes were no longer so hollow and sunken, and her cheeks filled out, becoming rosier, her skin less sallow. It would have been fascinating, were it not so unsettling to see her latched onto his arm like some overgrown lamprey. 

Before Leon could tell her to stop, Elena pulled away, shoving his arm as far from her as she could manage. “That’s—that’s enough,” she gasped. Her lips were stained crimson, and she carefully licked them clean with a shudder. 

Leon looked at his elbow, mildly surprised to find Elena’s saliva seemed to have sealed the cut, leaving a shiny pink scar. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked, and Elena nodded, shuddering. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said, but Leon shook his head.

“You said so yourself,” he said, standing and offering her a hand. She hesitated a moment, but took it, and he pulled her to her feet before rolling his sleeve down, pulling his coat back on. “Three weeks with no food or water; I’d suspected your vampiric heritage was keeping you alive, but you were weak. Human food wouldn’t have been enough—not quickly enough, that is. I need you in good condition to travel.”

Elena nodded, unable to meet his gaze. “I… thank you, Mr Belmont, for your sacrifice.”

Leon’s eyes were distant before he glanced away. “Just Leon,” he said, and motioned for her to keep up. “Hurry up, Miss Munteanu, we can still make some distance before dark.”

Elena hurried to fall into step—beside him this time, rather than behind. “Elena,” she said. 

“Hm?”

“You can call me Elena. If we’re to be travelling together for some time, I’d like things to be a bit less formal between us, if that’s not too forward of me.”

“Very well… Elena.”

“Thank you, Leon.”

He glanced down at her, and offered her a small smile.

They lapsed into silence again, but one that wasn’t quite so tense as before. Elena still wasn’t quite sure what to make of this man—so guarded, yet so quick to trust, to offer himself to her, a monster he’d been set on killing just the day before. The only thing she was certain of was that he was sad, and deeply so; he wore it like a shroud that lay heavy on his shoulders. She wondered if it was why he’d chosen a life of hunting monsters.

The taste of his blood was still sweet on her lips.


	6. Chapter 6

Elena looked up from tending the fire when she caught a whiff of Leon; a moment later, the bushes rustled, and he emerged, holding a pair of rabbits by the back legs. 

“I haven’t bled them yet,” he said by way of greeting, sitting next to her on the fallen log they were using as a seat. “I thought the extra blood might help.” He hesitated, then offered one of the rabbits to Elena.

“Well,” Elena said, staring down at the rabbit, “How different can it be from blood sausage?” She still hesitated a moment as well before Leon made a cut in the neck, and Elena closed her mouth on it, draining the tiny body dry. She handed it off to Leon when she’d finished, and he traded her for the other, which she began to drink from while he dressed the first. 

“I’m afraid it’s no feast, but it’ll do,” Leon said as he set the offal aside. “That’ll make for nice fish bait,” he added as he threaded the carcass onto a slender branch, setting it over the crude spit Elena had fashioned while he was out hunting. 

“It’s bound to be better than dried goat strips,” Elena said, and was rewarded with one of Leon’s smiles. They never quite reached his eyes, but the corners of his mouth curled up, and she thought it a genuine reaction; there was just all that _sadness_ that kept him from smiling fully.

“Tomorrow, I’d like you to hunt with me,” Leon said, and Elena’s head shot up from the rabbit. “Just to really test how good your nose is, if that’s alright.”

Elena swallowed. “...I… suppose?”

Leon gave the spit a turn. “Look,” he said after a moment, “until earlier today, I didn’t even know it was possible for humans and vampires to reproduce. So now I’m faced with the prospect of three mon—” He cut himself off. “Three beings whose limitations and abilities I’m unaware of. I won’t be able to protect you efficiently if I don’t know.”

“I don’t know, either,” Elena said quietly, handing him the second carcass to dress. “I mean, what sort of abilities do vampires have? Surely that would be a place to start?”

“Maybe, if it was all consistent,” Leon said, glancing sidelong at her. “But some vampires have different abilities from others; Wurdulac, I know, could turn into mist. I’m not sure what other abilities he might have had.”

“Like what?” Elena asked.

Leon shrugged. “I’ve met some who could turn into wolves, or bats, or both. Mist is another. I’ve heard tell of those that could scale walls like lizards, though I have yet to see such an ability for myself. Flight without wings is a less-common one, though not completely unheard of.”

  
  


“What about the strength, the speed, the healing?” Elena asked.

Another shrug. “Powers I’ve seen in all vampires. I suppose you might think of those as the default.”

“And all the rest—you think I might be capable of all _that?_ ” Elena said incredulously. 

“It’s certainly possible,” Leon said. “Though the most likely, I would think, would be turning into mist.”

“Any ideas how I might go about doing that?” Elena said, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

“Do I look like a vampire to you?” Leon said, matching her tone. Elena gave him a look, and he relented. “It’s not exactly something I’ve sat down with them to discuss at length. Look…” He let go of the spit to add more branches to the fire. “My best guess is it’s all up in here.” He tapped the side of his head. “Same as any other kind of magic. It’s really just putting your intent into the world, simple as that.”

“If it were simple, I think there would be more mages and less fear from the church,” Elena said, but closed her eyes.

“Envision it,” Leon’s voice said, soft and warm. “Picture what you want to do in your mind, and then will it to happen.”

Elena could imagine. One of the few perks about being confined to a single suite of rooms her entire life was an overactive imagination to compensate. She could picture it, her body dissolving into mist, becoming light, airy, weightless. 

The more she imagined, the more she felt like she was actually floating—and then she heard a sharp intake of air from Leon. When she opened her eyes, it wasn’t _seeing_ in the normal sense, but like she had an awareness of everything around her as her body undulated, a thin white cloud hovering over her seat. Her concentration shuttered, and then she was falling to land in the grass, Leon lunging forward to catch her before her head could slam against the log. 

“Thanks,” Elena gasped, her eyes huge.

Leon helped her to sit up, propping his elbows on his knees. “Well,” he said, his expression unreadable. “That answers that question.”

“That felt _weird_ ,” Elena said, hugging her knees to her chest. “I don’t want to do it again.”

“Then don’t,” Leon said, giving the rabbit another turn. “But…” He glanced sidelong at her. “Thank you.”

Elena frowned. “For what?”

“For helping,” Leon said. He peeled his gloves off and pulled the rabbit off the fire. “For giving me an idea of what I’ll be facing if your siblings track us down in the night.”

“Do you think they will?” Elena asked, biting her lip. Her fangs pricked her skin. 

Leon shrugged, tearing off a hind leg and handing it to her. Despite the lack of seasonings, after three weeks with no food, it smelled divine. Elena bit into it, fatty juices running down her chin, and she let out a small squeak of surprise, using a finger to catch the drippings before digging in. Leon took the other leg for himself, eating at a much more measured pace; Elena quickly realised he was studying her as he ate, and she forced herself to slow down, closing her eyes so she wouldn’t have to look at him.

“You truly never left your house, growing up?” Leon asked softly, and Elena shook her head, keeping her eyes closed.

“I had a small suite of rooms,” she said. “The story was that I was too ill to leave my bed; only a small number of maidservants were allowed in, and even then, there were only two allowed to talk to me. Adina and Lavinia—they were my best…” She trailed off, an unpleasant thought gnawing at her stomach. “Well, I thought they were my best friends. I suppose one of them must have betrayed me.” She sighed. "They were so nice, though, and shared all sorts of stories about what it was like outside. Adina had the most beautiful eyes," she added. "She insisted they were blue, but they were violet, a proper violet. I was jealous."

Leon tilted his head. “How long had you known them?”

“O-oh, well.” Elena slowly lowered her rabbit. “Not long, I suppose. Just a month.”

Leon’s eyebrows flew up. “A _month?_ ” 

Elena nodded. “It was just a nursemaid and a governess before that. They were like family to me, raised me while Mother was busy with my younger brother.”

“I see.” 

Elena shifted in her seat to look at him. “What about you? What is your family like?”

  
“Oh, I never knew mine.” Leon slid off the log to sit in the grass beside her, leaning his back against it. “My parents died when I was very young; they left me in the care of a family friend. He sent me off to become a squire not long after that, while he managed the estate.”

Elena bit her lip. “Did you like it?” she asked, before nibbling on the bone, picking off the last few scraps of meat she could find before cracking it open to get at the marrow inside. 

“Ha! Took to it like a duck to water,” Leon said. “I earned my knighthood when I was sixteen.”

“You’re a _knight?_ ” Elena said, her eyes going wide. 

Leon’s smile faded, and the sad, hollow look in his eyes returned. “Not anymore,” he said. “I gave up my title. I was a baron, actually, once upon a time, but that was years ago.”

It was like the more he talked, the more questions Elena had for him, but she held her tongue, waiting for him to say more.

But he didn’t; Leon merely put the second rabbit on the fire, content to leave it be.

They finished eating and bundled themselves up in their cloaks near the fire; Elena was surprised to find that she didn’t feel the cold much, but after too long, she lifted her head when she realised Leon was shivering quietly. 

“Are you alright?” she asked, sitting up. Leon sighed and lifted his head. 

“Not used to sleeping without a tent,” he said, giving her a wry smile.

“Why don’t you have one?”

“It was with the horses,” he said, his mouth twisting further. 

Elena hesitated, then pulled the cloak off. 

“What are you—?”

“I don’t seem to feel the cold as much as you do,” she said, holding it out to him. “Take it, please.”

Leon’s fingers curled in the fur, and their eyes met. 

“Elena, I—”

“I insist,” she said, smiling at him. 

Leon drew the cloak around his shoulders, though he still seemed reluctant to do so. “What if you get cold in the night?”

Elena realised what he was about to say and began protesting. “It’s fine, really, I’ll be alright, it’s—”

“Trefor and I had to share warmth the last few nights,” Leon said, holding out a corner of the cloak. “And I don’t think you’d enjoy waking up missing several fingers.”

Elena had to admit, even though she wasn’t _cold_ like he was, she was still chilly, and needed no further invitation to scoot under Leon’s arm, curling against his side.

* * *

Leon’s sleep was fitful, to say the least. He wasn’t sure who’d dropped off sooner, him or Elena, but when sleep finally claimed him, he was tormented with visions of endless corridors that all looked the same no matter which way he turned or how far he ran. Cold water began to creep over his toes, his ankles, until he was submerged to the waist, running in slow motion as he tried desperately to reach the door to the throne room where he knew Sara was waiting. If he could just get to her in time, maybe this time, maybe just for a few blissful minutes, he could pretend the last five years never happened.

He burst through the doors and felt his heart twist. There she was, as beautiful as he remembered, clad in that blue gown she’d sewn for their wedding day. 

But Sara didn’t look pleased to see him. In fact, she grimaced, looking like she’d be anywhere but here.

“Hey, Leon, wasn’t it?” she said, and Leon skidded to a stop, rage filing him. “Look, I’m _really_ sorry about the intrusion, but Trefor and I are gonna be delayed by a few days—”

The Morning Star shot forward, and Sly dodged to the side. “Hey! Come on, I thought we were past this!”

“You _dare_ to wear her face?!” Leon yelled, chain rattling as it slid across his gauntleted arm, whipping back around to try and strike Sly in the back of the head. The succubus ducked, holding up her hands. 

“It’s not something I can control!” she cried. “Whenever I show up like this, it’s going to be as whoever you most desire, I didn’t make the rules!”

Leon’s chest heaved, but he re-coiled the chain, gripping it tightly in his fist. “Make this quick, and then _leave._ ”

“You got it.” Sly cleared her throat. “Anyway, turns out trying to get a bunch of angry villagers who’ve been imprisoned and tapped like kegs to cooperate is harder than herding cats. We’ll be delayed getting to Rădăuți; Trefor says to go ahead and we’ll catch up to you.”

“ _We?_ ”

“Oh, yes, I’ll be coming, too,” Sly said, looking far too pleased with herself. “He’s funny. I like funny.”

Leon grit his teeth. “Is there anything else?”

Sly thought about it for a second. “Nope. Hopefully we’ll see you soon. Ta!” 

Her form flickered and vanished, and then Leon was falling through the darkness again to land at Mathias’ feet. He felt a strong, taloned hand close around his neck, and then he was lifted off his feet, toes dangling from the floor. 

“ _Rule with me,_ ” Mathias breathed against his skin.

Leon jolted awake with a gasp.

Beside him, Elena was curled into a tiny ball, her brow furrowed as she mumbled in her sleep. He could see the barest hint of fang poking out from her lip, and despite himself, he smiled briefly, wondering how he could have ever thought her a monster.

Mathias’ crimson eyes flashed before him, and Leon stiffened before shoving the cloak off and getting stiffly to his feet, cursing the cold. 

He coaxed the fire back to life and was getting the leftover rabbit reheated when Elena stirred, her nose twitching at the smell of breakfast. “Food?” she said hopefully, and Leon passed her the carcass. “Don’t you want any?”

“I’m not hungry,” he answered truthfully, and Elena bit into the meat. 

“You know,” she said after she’d swallowed, “I had a really weird dream last night.”

“Did you, now,” Leon said, utterly disinterested. 

“I was back at home, and Slyheart was there,” Elena said, and Leon’s ears pricked. “Only he looked like you. I think he said something about Trefor?”

Leon felt his stomach drop out from under him.

God, this was the last thing he wanted, the girl getting _attached_ to him. She was young, naïve, and then there was the whole (admittedly poor) rescue to contend with. It meant nothing; she’d be over it by the end of their journey back.

“Succubi can appear to people in their sleep,” Leon said, very carefully not looking at her. “It really was him; he had a message. We’re not to wait for Trefor at Rădăuți.”

“Oh,” Elena said, her eyes wide. “Is everything alright?”

“Your concern is touching, but everything is fine. They’re just moving more slowly because of their charges.” Leon got up to kick dirt over the fire. “You can finish that while we walk. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”


	7. Chapter 7

The hike to Rădăuți was long; Leon seemed content to keep to himself as he led the way, but Elena was bored out of her skull long before noon on the next day of their journey. 

“Don’t you do anything for fun?” she asked. 

Leon glanced behind him, raising an eyebrow. “Fun?”

“All this walking,” Elena said, waving a hand. “It gets boring.”

“What did you do for fun in your rooms?” Leon said, turning back to face the road. 

“Well,” Elena said, tapping her chin, “I read.” She looked around, eyes wide in mock surprise. “No books here. I suppose I could paint—hm. No, similar problem there. Oh—I could recite poetry, how does that sound?”

Leon grit his teeth, but then Elena launched into a familiar poem, her voice crisp and clear.

“ _Ciarles li reis, nostre emperere magnes_

_Set anz tuz pleins ad estet en Espaigne:_

_Tresqu'en la mer cunquist la tere altaigne._ ”

“That’s— _La Chanson de Roland_ ,” Leon said, turning again to look at her. “You know it?”

“Memorised the entire thing,” Elena said, a touch smugly, and Leon’s eyebrows went up. “It was part of my lessons as a child.”

“Was it, now?” Leon said, and a faint hint of a smile graced his features. “I don’t think I’d object to listening, if you’d like to recite it.”

Elena beamed at him, and for once, he didn’t flinch back at the sight of her fangs.

“ _N’i ad casteî ki devant lui remaigflel:_

_Murs ne citet n'i est remés à fraindrc_

_Fors Sarraguce, k'est en une muntaigne..._ ”

* * *

Despite Leon’s earlier wish to have Elena hunt with him, they made better time on the road than he’d anticipated, Elena more than capable of keeping up with him despite her inexperience hiking. The air was already frigid when they finally reached Rădăuți, and Leon glanced up at the gathering clouds, heavy and threatening on the horizon. 

“I think we’ll spend tonight at the inn,” he said, and Elena made a small noise in the back of her throat in agreement. “I’d rather not spend it outside; it looks like it’s going to snow.”

“You don’t think the pass will be blocked, do you?” Elena asked.

Leon’s mouth twisted unhappily. “It’s possible,” he said. “But in that case, we’ll just have to take the longer route home.” 

He led Elena up the main street in search of the inn, pausing when they reached the doors and turning back to her. “Be careful when you smile,” he said, his voice low. “The last thing I need is for you to get attacked by an angry mob again. And keep your voice down; the _next_ last thing I need is for them to realise you’re not a man.”

Elena swallowed, a hand going to her neck as she nodded.

Leon pushed open the door, and the smells of stew and pipe weed hit their noses. The inside was lit by a fire along one wall, over which an ancient iron cauldron bubbled, and the wood beams of the ceiling were shrouded by a layer of smoke. Elena trailed after Leon, her eyes wide as she took in their surroundings. Aside from the night of her kidnapping, she’d never seen so many people in one place before—and certainly none so happy, drinking together, playing cards and rolling dice accompanied by the sounds of laughter and cheers.

“Two bowls of that delightful smelling stew of yours,” Leon said, setting a trio of coins down on the bar. “And a room for the night for my cousin and I.”

The matronly woman tending the bar had a pipe of her own clamped between her yellowed teeth, and she chewed it as she eyed the pair. “Travellers, eh?” she said, going to the cauldron behind her and slopping stew into two bowls. “Where you headed, then?”

“South,” Leon said. “We’re on our way to visit family for the winter.”

“Whereabouts south, then?” the woman asked, dropping the bowls in front of him and tearing off two hunks of bread from a loaf behind the counter, dropping them into the thick broth. “And you be wanting drinks, love?”

“Brașov,” Leon said, and Elena wondered if the woman caught the slightest of hesitations before he spoke. “And please, it’s been a long day.” He turned to Elena, passing her the bowls and lifting his chin in the direction of an empty table. 

She nodded and picked up the bowls, pausing when the woman sucked air through her teeth.

“Best not to linger here, then,” she said. “Though I’m sure there’s a storm what’s coming tonight, I can feel it in my bones. The pass might be blocked before you can even get there, let alone make it through.”

Leon shrugged, giving the woman a warm smile as she filled a pair of wooden mugs with dark ale, sliding them across the counter to him. “Then we’ll just take the long way around. Thank you.” He turned away before he could see the woman’s flustered expression and jerked his head at Elena, and the two of them went to claim their table. 

Elena began inhaling her food with gusto, ignoring the strange lumpy brownness of the stew. After weeks without proper food, she would have eaten anything, even if it did look a little suspect. She paused long enough to take a sip of her beer and began coughing, hastily covering her mouth with her sleeve.

Leon hid a grin in his mug before composing himself. “Never had beer before?”

“Only wine.” Elena cleared her throat, looking embarrassed. “It’s… bitter, but the stew is good.” She peered down at her food. “Even if it does look a little strange.”

“It’s a hunter’s pot,” Leon said, tearing off a chunk of bread and dipping it in the broth. “Also known as perpetual stew.”

“...Do I want to know why?” Elena asked, and this time Leon allowed her to see a faint smile.

“Probably not. But I’ve never gotten sick off it before.”

Elena nodded, biting her lip briefly before Leon lifted a finger to his own lips, and she hastily closed her mouth, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed. 

“So what do you think, seeing how the peasantry live?” Leon asked, and Elena lit up.

“Everyone is so _happy_ here. All the laughter is… it’s contagious, you know? After the weeks of quiet, being stuck in that chamber, it feels so refreshing.”

Leon hummed in agreement, popping another piece of bread in his mouth.

“What about you, _Baron?_ ” Elena asked, and Leon nearly choked on his food.

“No,” he said after a stifled coughing fit. “I told you, that was years ago. I’m no noble, not any more.”

“But what happened?” Elena asked, leaning forward. “I should very much like to know more about my rescuer—”

“Not that you need to—”

“Is it why you hunt vampires?” Elena asked, and jumped when Leon affixed her with a look that could have set stone aflame. 

And just like that, the anger faded away, replaced by more of that ever-present gloominess that seemed to surround him. “Elena, please understand,” Leon said, picking up his mug again and swirling its contents, “there aren’t many happy memories in my past, and the ones I do have are tainted. I do not wish to speak further on the matter.”

“...I understand,” Elena said softly. “Forgive me. I should not have pried.”

“It’s alright,” Leon said, and took a long drink, setting the mug down heavily. “You weren’t to know.”

Elena nodded and ducked her head, falling silent as she ate, her eyes on her food.

It was a long few minutes before Leon spoke again. “We’ll leave at dawn,” he said. “I don’t fancy travelling after dark when your darling siblings will have the advantage.”

“And… if they catch up to us tonight?” Elena asked nervously.

“Then you turn to mist and escape while I hold them off,” Leon said, his jaw setting. 

“What—no!” Elena said, and Leon quickly motioned for her to lower her voice. “I can’t let you do that!” she continued in an urgent whisper. “You said yourself you don’t know how to fight—things like us.”

“Nothing quite like learning on your feet,” Leon said, shrugging as he scooped up a spoonful of stew.

“ _Leon._ ”

He looked up at her, and shook his head. “I made a promise to your father that I would see you safely home. I intend to honour that promise, even to my dying breath. And should that happen, Trefor will finish the job without me.”

“But—”

Leon held up a hand. “I won’t hear another word on the matter. You aren’t trained for this sort of thing. I am. You’ll only get hurt if you tried to help.”

“...Well, then, what if you taught me?” Elena asked, and Leon’s head shot up. “When next we’re on the road. I don’t have a sword, but surely there are other things I could learn?”

Leon gave her an appraising look. “I don’t think your father would be best pleased.”

“You said he was planning to send me away,” Elena said, shrugging. “Nothing says he would ever have to find out.”

“Hm.” Leon was quiet for a moment as he chewed, his gaze distant as he mulled it over. “I’ll… think about it,” he said grudgingly. Elena beamed before he tapped his mouth again, and she hastily covered her own. 

“Thank you,” Elena said through her fingers.

“Don’t mention it,” Leon said, more than a touch awkwardly. 

He finished mopping up the last of his stew with the bread, and motioned to the bartender; she nodded and disappeared with their empty bowls before returning to show them up to their room.

“Just the one bed tonight, I’m afraid,” she said, unlocking the door to the room, and Elena froze as the woman smiled at Leon. “If you need anything, I’m right downstairs.”

“It’s very appreciated,” Leon said, giving her a small bow before she disappeared.

Leon crossed the room to the bed, sitting down with a creak of ropes as he bent to start unlacing his boots. “Suppose there’s only one bed because she figured if we were—” He looked up and frowned at Elena. “What’s the matter?”

“I don’t want to get pregnant,” Elena blurted out, and Leon recoiled slightly in confusion.

“ _Je_ — _quel?_ ”

Gabriella nodded at the bed, swallowing as she lingered in the door.

Leon stared for a moment before dropping his head between his hands, propping his elbows on his knees as he gripped his hair. He mumbled something in a broken mixture of French and Welsh that Elena didn’t quite catch before he looked up at her. 

“Come in and shut the door?” he said, and Elena did so, though she remained against the wall, eyeing him suspiciously. 

“Elena...” Leon said, “...how exactly do you think babies are made?”

Elena felt a faint heat creep into her cheeks. “Is this a trick question?”

“It’s a question I’d rather you answer before I continue,” Leon said delicately, and Elena cleared her throat.

“Mother said…” She leaned against the door, biting her lip. “She said when a man and a woman shared the same bed, a stork would implant a baby in her?”

Leon’s eye twitched and then he fell back on the bed, dragging his hands down over his face. “ _Merde._ ”

“What?” Elena said defensively.

Leon looked up at her, his expression pained. “Elena, you…” He swallowed, looked away, then looked back at her. “You said your mother was raped by Wurdulac.”

Elena bristled. “Yes, and?”

“Do… you even know what that means?”

Elena drew up short. “I…”

“If you were the result of that, what could it possibly mean?”

“...He…” Elena hesitated.

“Lord, give me strength,” Leon murmured. “Elena, I—please, come sit next to me? I can promise you it won’t get you pregnant,” he added when she still hesitated. After a moment, she joined him on the bed, her knuckles white on her knees. “You aren’t going to like this,” Leon said softly, and Elena frowned.

He told her, his voice halting, his gaze unable to meet her eyes, and the more he talked, the more Elena felt her heart grow cold, until she stood abruptly, her fists clenched at her sides. “Stop,” she bit out, and Leon broke off mid-sentence, eyeing her warily. “That’s—that’s _enough!_ ”

“Okay,” Leon said softly. “Please understand, I would have slept on the floor to begin with—it’s hardly proper of me to share a bed with you regardless of the circumstances—”

Elena shook her head. “No, that’s not—the other night, we were—but—” She was trembling, her tiny frame shaking, and she ducked her head, hiding her face in her hands. 

Leon remained frozen to the bed, staring dumbfoundedly up at her. “Ah… is there anything I can do for you?” he asked awkwardly, and Elena nodded, holding out her arms, unable to speak through her hiccupping sobs, and Leon stood, putting an arm around her shoulders, drawing her carefully down to the bed where the two of them could sit, Elena leaning against his shoulder as she drew in great, heaving gasps, clinging to him for dear life.

“I was planning to sleep on the floor tonight anyway,” Leon reiterated with a murmur when Elena’s sobs died down. “I wouldn’t have made you share a bed with me.”

But Elena shook her head, with a vehemence that surprised the both of them. “I—I want you to stay,” she said. “You—I mean, we—we slept together last night—”

Leon choked; Elena didn’t seem to notice.

“—because of the cold, and… it was fine then, right? So… I don’t mind sharing the bed, especially if you might not have a similar opportunity to not sleep on the ground, or the floor, for a while yet.”

“...Fine,” Leon said after a long moment. “But I’m not cuddling you this time.”

Elena let out a quiet, hiccupping laugh, and Leon returned her smile with a tired one of his own. 

“Will you be alright?” he asked, stifling a yawn, and Elena considered the question for a moment, her cheek still resting on his shoulder.

“I think so,” she said softly, and Leon gently pushed her away from him with an exhausted grin.

“Then I’m going to bed,” he said, before he drew away from her, tossing his coat into a corner and rolling under the blankets. “Sleep well, Elena.” He lifted his head enough to blow out the lamp on their bedside table, plunging them into darkness.

Elena remained sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands folded tightly in her lap as she turned over the revelations in her mind. Before long, though, she realised she was starting to shiver, and bent to pull off her own boots, leaving them beside Leon’s as she slid her legs under the blankets. She pulled the wool cap off her head and tossed it on the floor, shaking out her hair before laying her head down, tucking her hair up away from her neck and closing her eyes.

Her skin still crawled, and she put a hand over her abdomen, sending up a silent prayer that Leon was right and she would not, in fact, end up pregnant after sharing his bed after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, sorry it's been so long! Hopefully with finals now over and being less stressful, I'll be around a little more to update more frequently once again!
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the return to the "Leon is an idiot and Elena is sheltered AF" show. XD


End file.
